


Gods Chose

by thedarkeuphie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elia married Ned, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar won, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Younger Elia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:39:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkeuphie/pseuds/thedarkeuphie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa doesn't want to go South, but she supposes The Gods have other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silberias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/gifts).



> I don't own ASOIF or GOT, trust me if I did you'd know it.

"Must I marry him mother?" Sansa didn't want to go South, away from her family. Father always said 'Starks belong in Winterfell,' she didn't like the idea of going south of The Neck.

"Yes my sweetling," her mother sounded just as forlorn as Sansa herself felt and the soft raspy tones, that usually soothed her woes and hurts, sent her even further into despair.

"Why chose me though?" she asked, "I made it quite obvious that I don't wish to marry him," she'd become quite rude at one point. A cool temper she may have, but she still held venom within her fangs. Rhaegar Targaryen had merely laughed, asked for another reel and by the next morning had designed a betrothal contract that father could never dream of breaking.

"I am not sure Sansa," mother sounded just as confused and frustrated as Sansa herself, "What I do know is that you have something he sees as worthy of being at his side," mother didn't sound quite as confident as her face read. King Rhaegar was a widower twice over and Sansa didn't wish to follow in those foot steps.

"If I pray hard enough do you think The Old Gods will help change his mind?" she looked desperately at her mother. He was waiting on the other side of WInterfell; waiting for her to finish preparing.

"The Gods do not usually answer prayers that way sweetling," he mother said hugging her in a reassuring way as she sighed in frustration. Her mother stepped back to help tie the dress, "You look beautiful Sansa," her mother said turning her toward the mirror. 

Mother was right she looked beautiful, with her Tully red hair shining like fire and the Targaryen eyes, which she'd inherited from Daenerys I, shown like polished amethysts; she didn't recognize herself. She new this was the last chance she'd get to calm her nerves before heading to the Gods Wood.

"Jeyne," she said to her friend, "Tell Lord Hand that I am ready," she turned looking her mother and friend. Mother was smiling at her in that knowing way of hers, meaning she finally saw what the king had. She may not feel confident with the union she was about to enter, but by the Gods Old and New she wasn't going let it shatter her.

"Right away Sansa," Jeyne was already halfway through the door. Her friend it would seem was more excited for this affair than she herself was.

"You will be fine Sansa," mother said taking her arm. She certainly hoped so, she certainly hoped so.

Upon reaching the Gods wood she wanted to run the opposite way the calm she'd felt be damned, but one look at the man standing in front of the Heart tree and it was as if time has stopped. She wonders for a moment if this is what had helped in his decision of wedding her, but she knew now there was no fighting whatever the Gods, Old or New, had planned for them. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Rhaegar had survived two wives, both having died with the children they'd whelped and he wondered if their passing was a way of the Gods punishing him for not following through with the Old Valyrian marriage traditions. These traditions went back further than the brother-sister marriages that his family was so well known for; no this was from when his ancestors were still sheep herders roaming the land that was now The Smoking Sea, traditions that were founded on dreams and visions the Valerian gods gave you. He'd been little more than ten when the dreams of a copper-haired girl with Valyrian lilac eyes began and it was then his mother had sat him down to explain what he was dreaming of. His mother emphasized he not ignore what the gods were telling him and marry who they showed or he would be the end of their family, and with that in mind he began searching Westeros far and wide for a copper-haired lilac eyed girl. As he grew older though his hopes of finding her diminished and eventually, at eight and ten namedays, he accepted the Tully proposal that the Small council presented him.

Surly the Gods Old and New could forgive him for trying to forge his own happiness when presented with an empty promise, how wrong he'd been. 

Catelyn Tully, whilst looking similar to the girl of his dreams, wasn't her and no matter how hard he tried to get on with her his bride was still dejected at not being able to marry the young Peyter Baelish her father had fostered. So even though she does her duty as his wife seeing her in misery is more than Rhaegar can bare and eventually he worked up an agreement with her that when she produced an heir, be the babe a girl or boy, then he'd finagle her out of their marriage. Not two weeks later, four months into their marriage, she and Maester Pycelle present him with the news of his impending fatherhood and couldn't help  but feel pleased because they both are one step closer to achieving their end goal. The pregnancy goes smoothly, no complications to be heard of but what does cause her trouble is the way the babe is positioned when she begins to labor. The birthing lasts three days and when their daughter, whom they said had silver hair and Tully blue eyes, finally arrives her life has already been claimed by the Stranger and Catelyn isn't fairing much better, Cat's lost too much blood, and within hours she too passes to The Strangers grasp.

He 'mourns' for his wife and daughter the allotted year time frame before hearing out who the council propose he marry next and it's of no surprise to him they suggest Cersei Lannister, who better than the daughter of The Hand of The King? He says nothing of his suspicion but he gets a nagging feeling that her fate will be similar to Cat's, maybe if he'd Cersei's fate would have been different.

Cersei is far more enthusiastic to marry him than Cat had been but then she was also a very cold, calculating, manipulative, impatient, and has more bed fellows than Varys or he himself can keep up with and the cherry on top is that they get along as well as oil mixes with water. She falls pregnant earlier than Cat had, but he suspects the babe isn't his because he doesn't feel comfortable enough touching her beyond their first night as man and wife. Cersei's pregnancy isn't as smooth as Catelyn's had been, no her's is far rougher, and Rhaegar knows then her fate won't be as peaceful as Catelyn who died in her milk of poppy induced sleep. Not six moons into the pregnancy Cersei goes into an early labor and unlike Catelyn's it's a short affair, Maester Pycelle gives news that her heart had given out from the pressure the labor had put upon her. He holds his second child, also a daughter, for little more than a minute to say goodbye before she is burned alongside her mother and their ashes buried in the Sept of Baelor.

Once again he 'mourns,' more like relishes, the passing of mother and child, the council do not send more proposals for him to look over and he stays away from any and all ladies who do not resemble the maid from his dreams.

He would have to wait another six and ten years before he would meet the Lady the Gods had promised him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so here's the shtick. I'm taking prompts now, whether they be objects or plots for the next chapter. I want to see if I can work within the perimeters given to me by all of you.

"What do you mean the King has married Sansa?" Joffrey inquired dully. This was not the news he'd been expecting upon entering his father's solar once lessons finished.This wasn't something he wanted to hear, especially when he'd been courting Sansa since they were children. They were the outliers of the Stark family; both more Southron in both looks and manners for the other children's tastes. This closeness had lead to his feelings growing as they had; spending that much time together it was inevitable, or so he'd thought, and so the betrothal had been drawn up without hesitation.

"Just that," his father groused, "he married her with no real notice or warning."

"Who will you..." he really couldn't finish what needed to be said because right about now it was just that painful, "Could we not hold off on a new betrothal by the chance Sansa and the King are..."

"Cease that train of thought now boy," father snapped, "Joff," he heard a sigh, "I know your hearts been set on Sansa before you really understood what the whole arrangement truly implied," his way of showing Lyanna Baratheon he wasn't a totally wretched father by suggesting it, "but from what Ned writes there was no avoiding this."

"How so?" All things could be avoided, including poor marriage choices.

"You've read on the old Valyrian traditions your great-grandmother Rhaelle passed down correct?"

"On more than one occasion," he knew most of them, especially the more obscure ones because of how atypical they were from what most considered normal Targaryen traditions.

"Gods sending dreams of spouses or some such drivel."

"Oh," he glanced down at clenched fist, "Then I suppose there really isn't anything I could have..." If there was one thing his mother had encouraged it was that he be nothing like his father, 'If you truly love her you'll get to know her and if she choses someone else support her all the same, even if it means you're heartbroken sweetling,' he'd made a promise that day, one that headed his actions from henceforth, and he'd stick to it, "When's the celebration to begin? After all what King does not celebrate such an occasion?" his voice sounded hurt and forlorn even to his ears.

"A week or so," father looked at him finally, "I'm sorry that you had to experience this pain son," and the man truly did look it.

"Thank you father," he stood once more, "may I go?" he needed time to process the news and here wasn't where he needed.

"You may."

"Good day father," with that he headed for the door. There were thoughts and emotions he needed to work through before writing her but he would let Sansa know that no matter what she still had his love and support, even if it weren't in the fashion he wished for, "and who knows mayhaps that gods will grant me a similar amnesty," or the pain he currently felt may never recede.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what ya thought of my portrayals of these two. I know Joff is OOC but I'm hoping I was a bit more true with Robert.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh Rhaegar she's darling," Daenarys gushed. Usually his little sister hated the Ladies who were brought before him but there was something about Sansa that Dany liked and he was glad for it.

"I'm happy you to have provided you with entertainment," she also enjoyed how easy it was for his 'fated' to curtail him... period. It didn't matter the topic she could match him 'blow for 'blow.'

"You're not the only one she embarrasses you know," normally he'd feel sorry for his younger brother but the boy brought it on himself most days.

"I feel no sympathy for those who anger her knowingly," Stark and Tully she maybe in name and looks, but in temperament she was an odd mix of Oberyn and Elia. Calm yet easily angered if the wrong topic was broached in her presence. Those who felt her wrath rarely did so again, his brother was one of the few who dared. Yet the his brother did have a perverse enjoyment for pain.

"She's young yet though," Dany chuckled, "and mayhaps her temperament will even out as she grows," he truly had provided Dany with too much amusement, "am I free to go travel as I choose?"

"Yes Dany," her smile widened exponentially.

"I shall bring the finest of Myrish silk for my good -sister and future niece or nephew.'

"Try and stay out of trouble won't you?"

"Yes  _father,_ " she teased. I had raised when mother died and father refused to even touch her. With a light laugh and twirl in the opposite direction she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynden Tully speculates if Sansa is as strong as Myrian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to rename Robb Lewyn, in honor of Ser Lewyn because ya know Robert and Eddard don't really know one another in this universe.

Myrian, as Brynden recalls, at a mere five and ten was stronger and braver than either Hoster or himself. His sister had stood tall and done her duty for family despite having reservations on marrying Rickard Stark. Those reservations had mattered little to their father, the stingy bastard he was, and the two had married in the middle of one of the harsher winters he could remember. Out of anger, at both Hoster and the old bastard, he'd followed his sister North after the rather sombre affair.

It didn't take long for the pairs personalities to clash; where Rickard had been conservative and reactive whilst Myrian was brash and proactive. There were few things the two agreed initially but as time progressed and the children had been born both had found middle ground in most subjects, one of which was that they wanted their children to marry Southron. Myrian's odd friendship with the Dornish Princess had secured a marriage contract between Eddard and the Princess' daughter Elia. She confesses to her sickness not long after and doesn't live long enough to see Lewyn's birth much less Sansa's conception.

Sansa, out of his nieces and nephews, is the most biggest mystery to him. She was an eclectic mix of Tully, Stark, Targaryen and Martell, both in personality and looks, making her a bit of an outsider in her own family. Always a bit too Southron, what with her red hair and amethyst eyes, to fit in had garnered her the affections of one Joffrey Baratheon, whom was more Baratheon than Stark himself. Brynden had been the one to point the obvious affections the boy held for Sansa and that an arranged match would be the duo some good; after all Sansa'd always gotten on with Joff than her own siblings. If certain events had gone as planned, for the King's askance of her hand was thoroughly unexpected and he'd accompanied Sansa south to abate Elia's concerns, yet then he wouldn't have been treated to the scene before him.

"Oh and just what are they supposed to do Viserys? Do tell," Sansa quaried. She hadn't often been made angry as a child but Brynden does know that temper of her is colder than ice and her venom deadly.

"It's not my problem..." he didn't get to finish.

"You claim Rhaegar is unfit to rule," her tone resembling Myrian's when on a subject she was passionate over, "yet each utterance displays characteristics unbefitting the position," Sansa cared for her subjects and the young princes disregard for said peoples angered her, "We as rulers are responsible for their well being. Though they are permitted to make poor choices of their own free will, it is the monarchy's duty to ensure survival as best we can," he must have really pissed her off because those pretty amethysts were almost onyx now, "What do you believe would happen  _brother_ dear if the small folk were allowed to just 'fend for themselves' whilst you feasted to your fill?"

"I..."

"You'd what?" Sansa questioned further, "Kill them all? Lot of good that'd do you, in fact that'll earn a rebellion. Another Storming of the Dragon Pit mayhaps?" her smirk was mocking, "Viserys have you never wondered why we have the luxuries we do?"

"Because we hold the power?" that tuned more of a question than answer.

"We have them because our lives aren't truly meant to be easy," she squared the silverette with a glare, "The role of King is a stressful one for multiple reasons but the most important is the stress that we endure trying to ensure the safety of those we are bound to protect," there Myrian was with a hint of Elia, "We are praised in times of prosperity and the scapegoat in times of tragedy, harshness, or if plans cultivated to help them fall through," her antagonistic smirk was back.

"As though that matters," he scoffed back, "besides how would you know? Your family is nothing more than Lords," Sansa's eyes darkened further if that were possible.

"My family ruled over the North longer than Valyria existed," her tone low and eyes burning brightly even Brynden was tempted to take a step or two back, "a good three thousand years if memory serves," her grin turned deadly, " and a solid five millennia more until Torrhen knelt to Aegon I. So I'd say in terms of ruling I have more information to draw from."

"Whatever," the boy's frustration clear as he left.

"I thought he'd never leave," she sighs and slouches slightly. Arguing with Prince Viserys leaves her more tired and listless recently but he supposed even non pregnant women were left feeling that way after encountering him, "I don't know he argues over it so. He's more like Aerys than most are willing to admit."

"Your grandmother used to say the same thing of Hoster when we were younger."

"Really?"

"Yes," he nodded, "Hoster more oft then not only wanted her attention really. Myrian rarely had much to do with him, not only because of the twelve year age gap either. She thought him just as fool hardy and dimwitted as the prince on many an occasion, especially if the topic was something she cared for," they'd argued over many a thing, so many that Brynden couldn't recant a specific topic though he was certain some had been similar to the one Sansa'd just had with the Targayen prince, "You remind me of her in those moments."

"Truly?"

"Very much so," the smile Sansa graced him with also gave him a glimpse of Myrian. Her visage the sun reincarnate, "you also have her smile."

"Could you tell me more about Grandmother?"

"Most certainly Sansa," a few steps found him sitting in the chair opposite her recanting what time had either lost or changed.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The Maester Jaerys had stated upon initial examination that she was carrying a girl but something just told Sansa that wasn't the case, that she was going to birth a hail and hearty boy. She'd told Rhaegar as much and he'd said any living child by this point would be well received be they boy or girl.

A miserable and long nine moon turns later she was proven right when the midwives proclaim her accomplishment for all, including Jaerys, the realm to hear. A boy, with a healthy set of lungs if his screams were any indication.

"Let me hold him," Sansa all but demands after the leftover material are disposed of.

"We must insist you clean and the sheets changed before his majesty arrives to greet the Prince your grace."

"Then be swift, I wish to hold him."

"Of course your grace," she bowed and began to help me ready for Rhaegar's arrival. The servant did as promised and readied me and my son in quick fashion.

"Maddy," the youngest girl looked to the elder, "deliver the message that her grace and and the babe are ready for an audiance," she then turned to me, "shall we prepare a bath for you your grace?" She asked as she handed me my son.

"Lavender and frankincense if you would," with a bow she left through the servants door.

"His highness your grace," Rhaegar stood to the right of Maddy. He wasn't old by any stretch of the imagination, thirty-three is young, but it would appear the stress from the days event had worn his more thin they had I or the maids and midwives.

"I heard a sharp cry but they would not tell me if we have a daughter or son," his violet eyes never once leaving our child.

"Come meet your son Rhaegar," she held out her unoccupied hand to him. Once he was beside her Sansa turned slightly to offer a better glimpse at our boy, "I told Jaerys we were having a boy," I grumbled a bit.

"You did," he snickered, "proving that Maesters are not omnipotent nor is child birth or conception an exact science," his figures ghosting over the babes hair, "What shall we name him Sansa?"

"Torhenn."

"Torhenn," Rhaegar tests the name on his tongue, "I like it," he grins a bit, "It means he who creates with destruction."

"Yes," she'd picked this name for that very reason. Targaryens were a living manifestation of destruction but following that destruction was the creation of something new, for her it signified the duel sided nature of the house.


	7. Chapter 7

Rebellions aren't a topic most mothers, or Septas, educate their daughters on. Most lords, even the wardens, were a bit too scared of the repercussions that came with it, a bit less power was preferred to an extinct house, so why bother. It would appear, however, her mother had seen this particular rebellion coming and had deemed them necessary lessons for Sansa to learn.

"The Iron Born are a proud people Sansa," her mother stated, "they chafe under the rule of any but their own and they may one day very well chose to do so again."

She'd taken those lesson to heart knowing that if her husband needed to go fight then it would be she who kept order and defended the city from attack. From tactical and improvised warfare to politics and economic understandings, all of that and then some to ensure the survival of her family and subjects.

What she hadn't been expecting was to execute all this on such a large scale. She'd always dreaded the idea of becoming queen, a headache is what it was, so many expectations to meet and people to please. So when news of rebellion and raids came from the both The North and Westerlands she knew that war was upon them.

"What do plan on doing to them Rhaegar?" She'd questioned in worry.

"I'm going to follow up on my threat," Her husband was a kind and beloved king but it would seem Balon and his brood hadn't thought they could take advantage of that kindness, "It would appear Tywin was not all wrong. One does need to be a bit feared to keep the not quite so content with my rule in line."

"I shall maintain order and protect the city as best I can Rhaegar," she'd said in all seriousness. He pulls her close and lays a kiss on her forehead.

"I know you shall Sansa," he trusts her in ways many, with the exception of her parents and Uncle Bryden, never have, "Come home safe husband."

"I shall endeavor to do so," with that he boarded the Westgate to head to Lannisport. She would need help and who better to seek out than Barristan?

Nine long months later he would return to a city partial burnt but on the mend, a population that seemed fairly happy and a queen that felt more secure in her position.

He had been anxious upon hearing the city had been surrounded but when news came that the Iron Born forces were driven off due to their inability to smoke out or starve the city after two months of effort.

The city was thriving and he could not be more proud.


End file.
